The Gate of the Giant Scissors eBook

Brossard sank on his knees in a shivering heap, and
began crossing himself. His hair was upright
with horror, and his tongue stiff. Jules knew
who it was that danced around them in such giddy circles,
first darting towards them with threatening gestures,
and then gliding back to utter one of those awful,
sickening wails. He knew that under that fiery
head and wrapped in that spectral dress was his “fearless
friend,” who, according to promise, had hastened
her aid to lend; nevertheless, he was afraid of her
himself. He had never imagined that anything could
look so terrifying.

The wail reached Henri’s ears and aroused his
curiosity. Cautiously opening the kitchen door,
he thrust out his head, and then nearly fell backward
in his haste to draw it in again and slam the door.
One glimpse of the ghost in the barnyard was quite
enough for Henri.

Altogether the performance probably did not last longer
than a minute, but each of the sixty seconds seemed
endless to Brossard. With a final die-away moan
Joyce glided towards the gate, delighted beyond measure
with her success; but her delight did not last long.
Just as she turned the corner of the house, some one
standing in the shadow of it clutched her. A
strong arm was thrown around her, and a firm hand snatched
the lantern, and tore the sheet away from her face.

[Illustration: “Brossard, beware!
Beware!”]

It was Joyce’s turn to be terrified. “Let
me go!” she shrieked, in English. With
one desperate wrench she broke away, and by the light
of the grinning jack-o’-lantern saw who was her
captor. She was face to face with Monsieur Ciseaux.

“What does this mean?” he asked, severely.
“Why do you come masquerading here to frighten
my servants in this manner?”

For an instant Joyce stood speechless. Her boasted
courage had forsaken her. It was only for an
instant, however, for the rhyme that she had made
seemed to sound in her ears as distinctly as if Jules
were calling to her:

“Giant scissors,
fearless friend,
Hasten, pray, thy aid
to lend.”

“I will be a fearless friend,” she thought.
Looking defiantly up into the angry face she demanded:
“Then why do you keep such servants? I came
because they needed to be frightened, and I’m
glad you caught me, for I told Jules that I should
tell you about them as soon as you got home.
Brossard has starved and beaten him like a dog ever
since he has been here. I just hope that you
will look at the stripes and bruises on his poor little
back. He begged me not to tell, for Brossard said
you would likely drive him away, as you did your brother
and sister. But even if you do, the neighbors
say that an orphan asylum would be a far better home
for Jules than this has been. I hope you’ll
excuse me, monsieur, I truly do, but I’m an
American, and I can’t stand by and keep still
when I see anybody being abused, even if I am a girl,
and it isn’t polite for me to talk so to older
people.”